Mitchell, OR
After fighting the sprinklers last night (with two other bikers) I climbed a gentle 2,000 feet to Ochocco Summit. The ride down the other side was very long and it grew hotter by the mile. (I had lunch at the summit.) I stopped in Mitchell with some bikers because the description said no water till John Day, 70 miles away. We're all taking the day off and climbing the eight miles in the morning. We're having a great time--nine boys, one girl--trading biking tales. Only 50 miles today!
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| Black Butte. |
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| Abandoned chimney, Ochoco Summit Road. |
When I stopped at the park there in Mitchell, I joined two other
bikers who were debating what to do. Two more came in behind me and in one
hour, we had ten cyclists there, all trying to talk each other into not going
further. It worked. Only two brave souls ventured forth. (As it turned out, those two brave souls were Bret and Jack, the two guys I ended up riding with all the way to Denver! That story develops...) The rest of us stayed
and had a party of sorts. We wrote postcards and told cycling stories and
cycling jokes and cycling lies. Someone bought a watermelon, which quickly
disappeared. All in all, it was the most sociable time I had the entire trip.
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| Folks at Michell, waiting for morning. |
Two of the bicyclists there, by the way, were in their 70s. Scotty,
76 years old, had traveled the TransAmerica Trail in 1980 going east to west.
This year, he brought along a friend of his who was 73 years old and they were
going west to east. They traveled slow, ate at restaurants, and stayed in
motels and hostels.
I’m only 58 now, so I guess
there’s still time for me to relive my youth! Bret is doing it!
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| Guy at Mitchell. |
